


Wednesday Morning

by Menirva



Series: Learning to Fly [4]
Category: Dark Knight Rises (2012)
Genre: Breathplay, Fluff and smut?, M/M, Sassy Barsad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-06
Updated: 2012-11-06
Packaged: 2017-11-18 02:01:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/555652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Menirva/pseuds/Menirva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are still ninjas in the kitchen. John doesn't want to deal.</p>
<p>Barsad is a happy distraction.</p>
<p>Smutty ficlet written for the Learning to Fly Verse</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wednesday Morning

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick little ficlet about what some of the boys have been getting up to! I might make a series of such ficlets later.

Two days went by far too fast. He made sure to complain about this loudly to anyone who would listen on Wednesday, which, since he was still in bed holding a pillow over his head was mainly just Barsad who was up already in the bathroom, neatly trimming his beard.

“You chose the schedule, little bird,” Barsad replied with no sympathy at all, which wasn’t making him any happier.

He made a face and tossed the pillow towards the general vicinity of the bathroom. He refused to open his eyes yet, but he heard it smack softly against the door frame.

“I order you to feel bad for me,” he finally mumbled and forced himself to prop up against the bedframe and rub the sleep from his eyes.

He jumped when he felt Barsad’s lips capture his own for a quick kiss that tasted like coffee. He hadn’t even heard him move.

“My poor god, how he suffers,” Barsad stated as he kissed his brow, his tone dripping with false sympathy.

Blake shoved at him. “It doesn’t count if it’s not real.” He ignored the short laugh and hair tousle, yawning. “Is there still coffee?”

“Perhaps.”

“Are there still ninjas in the living room?”

“Perhaps.”

“Can you bring me coffee?”

“Still avoiding your own men?”

“Shut up; coffee.”

“No.”

Robin finally opened his eyes purely so he could glare hatefully at Barsad. “That… that’s HERASY.”

“I must remember to pray for forgiveness later,” Barsad replied quite seriously.

He pouted then hissed as the blinds were opened and light flooded his eyes. Yes, he’d spent the last two days in bed with the blinds drawn, what of it? He forced his eyes open again after a moment and finally really looked at Barsad as he stood in front of the window.

“You’re naked,” he, for some reason, felt the need to point out, just in case Barsad had forgotten pants or something. He couldn’t help but eye at the pale skin that was being lit up by the morning sun, the firm curve of Barsad’s ass as the man faced the window then turned his head towards him, his eyes relaxed and amused.

“I am,” he agreed.

“You’re making me not want to get out of bed even more.”

“Surely you have more self-control than that. I was certain we had worn you quite through last night.”

Oh right. His ass still hurt a bit when he shifted on the bed. His morning wood certainly didn’t care at all, though, especially when he recalled with a shiver just how they’d spent the night before.

“So, where’s Bane, then?” he asked, hearing a bit of desire creep into his tone even when he tried to sound nonchalant about it. Two nights was nowhere near enough when he’d been deprived of them both for months on end, though they’d certainly been making up for lost time. His eyes roamed over Barsad’s body more, feeling a hot twist of satisfaction in his stomach when he could make out the little circular bruises that curved over Barsad’s hips; finger and thumbprints, two sets, one by larger hands, but both sets were a deep purple.

“He is addressing the men,” Barsad answered then followed his gaze and smiled. A graceful finger traced over the marks, connecting them. His voice became even softer than its usual tone. “I am pleased to wear your marks again, my Robin.”

He approached the bed and Robin leaned towards him and brought his hand up. He couldn’t resist sliding it possessively up the soft skin of Barsad’s inner thigh, just able to make out the edges of deep scratch marks and more purpling from where he had been held open roughly last night. Barsad sighed softly, his lips parting and tipping his head forward when he pushed his thumb into a bruise.

“Fuck,” he swore softly, a flush of arousal crawling up his spine at Barsad’s open submission. He knew how Barsad ached so much to serve him, and sometimes when that knowledge was laid out in front of him in little displays like that it was simply too much. He scrambled over to sit on the edge of the bed, feet touching down to the floor as he grabbed Barsad’s hands, pulling them down to his chest.

“Touch me,” he tried to make it sound less like a plea, more like an order, which he was pretty sure he failed miserably at, but Barsad was too polite to point it out.

He smiled instead and stroked his hands over his chest. “Of course, my little bird.”

Robin sighed as he was rubbed over reverently, thumbs tickling into his ribs, capturing a soft, breathless giggle from him. The complaint he started to speak came out as a low moan instead when a wet mouth followed the trail left by fingers. The curve of a smirk catching against his heated skin told him that the series of actions had been completely intentional.

Robin threaded his hands into Barsad’s hair and tugged at the soft brown locks, getting a pleased hum against his navel in response.  When the angle was sure to be putting a strain on his back Barsad dropped down to his knees without a sound, his hands moving to Robin’s thighs, rubbing along them playfully when a quick tip of his tongue into the sensitive area of Robin’s stomach made it clench and drew another involuntary, breathless gasp.

“Stop trying to tickle me, you bastard.”

A laugh puffed over his wet skin. “Mm, but you look precious when you squirm,” came the teasing response that was followed by the scraping, tingly feeling of Barsad’s cheek rubbing against his groin, just above his cock. It easily drew another squirm out of him, made him clench his toes into the soft carpet.

“What would you have me do?”

He wanted him inside, damn it, but that would be pushing it. He actually did have to get up today and walk around like a normal, not fucked bow-legged, individual in front of a roomful of mercenaries. It was bad enough that they’d no doubt heard all of the humiliating noises that Bane and Barsad had been ripping out of him the past two days. Then there was coffee with Gordon to consider. No, getting fucked right now just wasn’t in the cards, no matter how incredibly tempting.

It took only a moment to consider his options before he dug his nails into Barsad’s scalp and pulled him closer to his cock. “Your mouth.”

A low noise escaped his throat as wet lips greedily sucked him in. He could never quite prepare himself for how perfect Barsad was with his mouth. Soft “ah”s were pulled from him effortlessly as he clutched at his hair, heat pooling into his gut as Barsad hummed around the tip of him, forming a tight seal that had him squirming against the bed. He fought the urge to let himself flop back onto the mattress, wanting instead to be able to watch Barsad as he worked.

“God, you feel so good,” he praised, unable to resist smiling a little at seeing Barsad’s eyes lower a bit at that, his spine curving at the praise, like a cat getting stroked. “So good…”

He could just barely see Barsad’s cock swelling up between his legs and it made him feel a bit hotter at the power he had there.

“You’re getting so hard for me, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice low, because Barsad wasn’t the only one who could tease.

There was a soft whine of agreement that vibrated through his dick, making his balls draw up more, making his thighs tighten as he leaked out a bit into Barsad’s mouth. He chuckled breathlessly as Barsad made a content noise when the taste hit his tongue and he swirled it around the tip of him slowly, trying to draw more out.

“Greedy thing.”

Breath puffed from Barsad’s nose and hit his damp skin. He totally didn’t whine when Barsad pulled back, licking at the stickiness gathered on his lips, but he probably glared a bit. Barsad grinned at the look.

“I needed to breathe.”

“You are such a goddamn liar. I should fucking choke you on it,” he muttered.

He wasn’t sure why he was surprised at the sudden flare of arousal in Barsad’s eyes, the way he gripped his thighs tighter suddenly.

“…That was a joke.”

Barsad paused and loosened his grip, his eyes more casual again as he shrugged his shoulders. “If you wished it to be a joke.”

The way his fingers were still lightly digging into his thighs, though…

“Do you, uh… want me to?” he asked in confusion.

“Robin, I wish whatever you desire.”

He snorted and shoved at his head. “Don’t. You know I want to do the stuff you both like, too.” It was aggravating sometimes when they wouldn’t ever tell him what turned THEM on. “It’s not like I’m incredibly experienced, you know? What if I’m missing out on something I might like even more because you won’t tell me?”

Barsad tilted his head up at that and met his eyes, clearly not having thought of it like that before. “Perhaps you are right. I would not like to make you uncomfortable, though.”

“You rimmed me on camera in front of Gordon,” he pointed out bluntly.

He was flashed a cheeky grin. “That was to make you squirm, not to make you truly uncomfortable…” his voice trailed off slightly. “It is no secret that I love when you possess me, Robin. There is nothing that makes me feel more complete than when you do things that make me feel weak, powerless against your will… it is intoxicating.”

“That… is a really polite way of saying you’d like me to choke you on my dick.”

Barsad laughed lightly then patted his thigh for a moment, seeming to gather himself. “If it pleases you, I would like that very much.”

It was a weird request, if it could even be called one, but Barsad was so infuriatingly quiet about his own needs that, if he was going to voice one, Robin was going to make damn well sure he’d meet it… within reason.

He hesitated then cupped his chin, tilting his head up and stroking a thumb over the corner of his jaw, watching how Barsad closed his eyes and sighed at the attention. “I… what would I have to do?”

Barsad made a pleased noise, leaning into his hand so that Robin found himself cradling his cheek. “Use my mouth, little Robin, as much as you wish.” His voice lowered, then. “Roughly, until I am so full of you I cannot breathe; don’t let me pull back from you.”

Jesus. Christ. That should not have made his cock twitch as hard as it did, shouldn’t have made him feel so possessive and powerful inside, but it did, and he suddenly wanted it perhaps just as badly as Barsad did. “Ok… ok, but what if I really hurt you?”

“You won’t.”

He shook his head. “You need a way out.”

He yelped when Barsad ducked down and bit sharply into the flesh of his inner thigh, licking a quick line over the neat teeth imprints left behind. “I don’t need a way out, Robin. I don’t have a way out. I am yours, and there is no escaping such a wonderful fate.”

“Ah! You BIT me, you jerk.” He squirmed and glared as Barsad licked over his lips and smirked.

“So punish me for it,” he goaded lightly and Robin found himself standing up off of the bed, grabbing Barsad tightly just behind the ears and pulling him down onto his cock. He shuddered at having that warm mouth back, but hesitated a moment before going further. Barsad wanted this, wanted it rough, wanted to feel used by him, and the fucker had just bitten him.

He thrust his hips forward with a rough push, gasping out at the sudden wetness that took him deeper, much deeper than he usually went. Barsad made a choked off noise, and Robin could see the tremor that ran up his body. He pulled him back so that he was teasing at his lips. Barsad licked over him eagerly, working his tongue at his slit with quick, fervent flicks of his tongue.

“Like that?”

Barsad gave a curt nod of his head and looked up to him. He would be a liar if he said he couldn’t see the soft plead in his eyes, that desire there, and it made his own throat feel a bit cut off, frankly. Barsad never asked, never said please for something he wanted; begging for more really couldn’t count, it wasn’t like this.

“Hands behind your back,” he ordered sharply, putting as much force into it as he could manage when his voice was a little shaky. Barsad’s hands snapped back and his shoulders were drawn back a bit with them; he could see how he clasped one hand around the other’s wrist to keep them in place.

“Ok, ok, I’m going to do it, but if you let go of your wrist I’m going to stop, ok?” He needed some sort of signal here, for his own sake, even If Barsad didn’t. He didn’t wait for the response, he simply pulled him down again, groaning at the tight heat, grunting when he knew he was hitting the back of Barsad’s throat, feeling the bit of struggle in Barsad’s body as he worked against his own instinct, struggled to take him in more.

Then he was deeper, Barsad’s throat was constricting around him, and, fuck, it felt amazing. Barsad was working so hard not to choke, he could tell, he was doing so well as Robin gave a few short thrusts into his mouth, sinking in so deeply he could feel Barsad’s lips pressing to the root of him, his beard softly rubbing against his skin. It was incredible to be so deep. He thrust just once more before reluctantly pulling back to give Barsad some air, to let him catch his breath just a little, watching as it was sucked in quickly through the man’s nose, one quick gulp of fresh breath and then it was Barsad trying to push back down onto him and really, how could Robin try to stop him when the man wanted it that badly?

He let go of the last of his reserve, tightening his grip on Barsad’s hair and thrusting into him. He used him like he would if he had the man bent over on the bed for him, snapping his hips deeply, feeling Barsad’s throat constrict around him, holding him tightly to him, forcing his head to keep still while he fucked into it.

Barsad was shaking now, Robin knew he couldn’t be getting any air at all, not the way he was using his mouth, not the way he was trying to tug his head backwards, purely out of reflex to try to breathe. His hand was still tightly clasped though, his wrist so tightly wrapped around by the other hand as if he was afraid of letting go and losing what he was getting. The way he was trembling now, the way his face was turning red, the hot tears that were springing up from his eyes, god, it was strangely beautiful and he wanted so badly to come and so badly to just hold on a little longer so he could see how far Barsad would go, see how much he could take.

There was drool running from his mouth now, he was gagging; he didn’t let go of his wrist.

Tears were streaming down his cheeks, and Robin wondered how long he could go without air. He didn’t let go of his wrist.

The choked noises were becoming louder, he was so close to coming, he was sure Barsad was close to passing out, his body was convulsing now, and he was practically sobbing. His fingers twitched around his wrist and began to uncurl before he gripped again tightly. That was enough, it sent him over. He pulled himself out, coming all over Barsad’s face in long thick streaks as he collapsed against his thigh, as he gasped in lungfuls of air desperately and his hands finally let go, clinging to Robin’s legs like a lifeline.

“Fuck, fuck, Barsad. Jesus,” he groaned out, never feeling exactly eloquent in these moments, rubbing himself against Barsad’s face as the last of his orgasm trembled through him and dribbled onto Barsad’s cheek, feeling the come, tears, and sweat there, shivering at how even as he tried to recover his breath Barsad mouthed eagerly at him.

He let out a shaky breath and ran a hand through Barsad’s hair. His face was a mess, still flushed bright red, fluids smeared all over it, but his eyes were nearly closed in bliss, his mouth open as he panted, and his lips looked shiny and swollen from his efforts. He looked like he was feeling doped-up out of his mind, honestly, and Robin shook his head fondly at that.

“Barsad, come on… get up on the bed.” He reached down and helped guide him onto it, chuckling as he sprawled out wantonly, his cock hard and precome pearling up at the tip of it. Robin crawled up with him and smiled at the soft raspy noise he drew from Barsad’s throat when he licked over him.

“Come on, you fucking deserve it,” he encouraged lightly and wrapped a firm hand around him, sucking at the tip of him. It was only a moment before Barsad’s body arched up off the bed and he let out a soft, muted cry, grabbing onto the sheets and spilling into Robin’s mouth. He swallowed down the bitterness and pulled back to wipe his lips. Barsad looked dazed; his body was downright limp on the bed, now.

“Christ, you’re a mess.” He couldn’t resist running a finger through the sticky fluids on Barsad’s cheek, getting a blissful sigh.

“I am your mess,” Barsad managed to croak out with a bit of effort. It certainly shouldn’t have been a turn on to hear how wrecked his throat was, and Robin certainly shouldn’t have been thinking of how quickly he might be able to get it up again.

Maybe he should reschedule with Bruce. That probably wouldn’t go over too well. He sighed and rolled off the bed, coming back from the bathroom with a damp towel and carefully wiping Barsad’s face clean. He got a pleased sigh of acknowledgement then suddenly a strong arm was tugging him down on top of him, guiding his ear down to his lips.

“Thank you, my Robin,” came the still-harsh tone in a whisper.

He lowered himself down slowly, smiling at the way Barsad played with his hair, how he felt so relaxed under him, and the slight hitch in his breath every few moments. Maybe they could get a quick nap in before he REALLY had to go out. He mumbled out the idea and got his hair tousled, which he took as agreement.

“Half an hour, at the most,” he promised. He took the pat on his back as another agreement and closed his eyes, settling back in for a brief nap.


End file.
